


2 | You, again

by ELC01



Series: It’s you [2]
Category: Harry Styles (Fandom), Harry Styles - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-30 08:30:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21425236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ELC01/pseuds/ELC01
Summary: With such a magnetic attraction, they could afford to wait for their perfect moment.So, when the time is right, Harry and Eloise finally get to embark on something magical together.Navigating their blossoming relationship through tours and a burgeoning new career, the hiatus and new directions, they experience all manner of highs and lows.They'll face revelations and illnesses, break ups and make ups, weddings and anniversaries. But whose?>Second in a series of interconnected select moments, exploring the developing relationship between Harry and Eloise.The series starts in September 2016. This second instalment takes place in January 2015, before ‘1 | Back to you (Prologue)’, before they are together.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Original Female Character(s)
Series: It’s you [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1528811
Kudos: 14





	2 | You, again

**Author's Note:**

> Please note:
> 
> This is intended as an exercise in character development and descriptive writing. Any mistakes are my own.
> 
> Harry features heavily - because he's incredibly charismatic and so talented - but I feel a little out of my comfort zone writing RFC, so will be mindful to be as respectful as possible.
> 
> Disclaimer: I have no links to Harry or any of his associates. Rather, I am just borrowing him and them as familiar points of reference for not-for-profit artistic license.

7th January 2015

"Nothing else, thanks, this is perfect", she bids to the retreating waiter.

Reaching for the glass of red wine, she casts a furtive glance around the British Airways lounge at JFK. Nearing 11pm on a Monday night, the few inhabitants are scattered in quiet corners. Some tired looking corporate types, a smart older couple, a glamorous looking mother with her young son asleep across her lap. She ponders whether the hipster yacking into his phone in the opposite corner is a creative type, or maybe a producer or an agent.

Unwittingly making eye contact with him, she quickly slinks back into her winged armchair, drawing her long legs up, eyes transfixed on the dancing life-like flames of the faux fireplace in front of her.

Feeling tiredness creeping up on her like a misty fog, she takes a sip and hopes the red will help her drop off to sleep quickly on the plane.

With the penultimate term of her final year fast approaching, she knows she'll be sequestered away back to Cambridge almost as soon as she gets home. She's exhausted at the prospect, but excited for the final push and the promise of what lies in wait for the summer and beyond.

As always, she'd fallen to the temptation of squeezing too much into too little time. She'd flown in for an editorial shoot, meetings with her US agency and, of course, Adele's party. Having bumped into so many friends and acquaintances at her best friend's glitzy do and raucous afterparty, she'd then squeezed in brunches, coffees and dinners in an effort to catch up with everyone properly.

Most of them jet-set back and forth more than she does, so why she overstretched herself again trying to cram everything in, she doesn't know. 'City that never sleeps, indeed', she thinks with a wry smile as she swirls the deep red in her glass.

>

She's pulled abruptly from her thoughts when a heavy leather holdall is thrown against the side of her armchair and a shearling coat lands partially over her from behind. She yelps and thrusts her glass in the opposite direction - dark red far away from gorgeously supple camel suede.

"Oh, fuck, shit...", she hears hissed out in shock.

Followed by an "Oi, language!" retort from an accompanying female voice.

"I'm so sorry! I thought this was empty. Here, let me...", she hears as she wades her way out one-handed from under the heavy fabric.

She drapes the gorgeous coat across her lap and pushes her tousled long blonde hair out of her face as she turns and looks up in the direction of that familiar deep voice.

"Oh, it's you!", his voice rises in surprise.

"Harry!", she grins. "Way to make an entrance, smothering me in your...", checking the label, "Ooh, Saint Laurent, very nice!".

He smiles coyly and rubs the back of his neck, "Hey! I wouldn't give that treatment to just anyone, you know?". He tips his head to the wine glass still in her right hand, "Didn't spill a drop. Classic Winston behaviour, that!".

>

As their laughter tails off she pulls her eyes from his stare - deep green in the flickering low light - and catches his dark-haired companion nudge him, "H?". She's beautiful and the resemblance is uncanny; it must be his mother.

He whirls around. "Oh, sorry! This red wine Ninja here is Eloise, Ben's sister. This is my Mum, Anne".

Eloise unfurls her coltish legs, springing to her feet to greet his mum properly, only momentarily distracted as her fingers brush his as she passes back the coat.

She gestures playfully with her glass before extending her hand, "Lovely to meet you".

Anne takes her hand to pull her in warmly for a hug. "You too, Eloise. Wonderful to finally put a beautiful face to that beautiful name".

"Oh, so that's where he gets that from, hmm?", she pulls away, smirking from Anne to Harry.

"Mum!" he whines in embarrassment, hiding his pinked cheeks as he tugs at Eloise's arm. "Hey, where's mine?".

Pulling her against his chest in a tight hold, he whispers deeply into her ear. "Hello again, you... Still a happy New Year?".

She feels discombobulated; from his lips gracing the sensitive shell of her ear, his breath intimately tickling her neck, and the rush of heady memories from their flirtatious last encounter at Ben and Mer's New Year's Eve party.

"Oh H! Do put her down...", his mum chastises.

>

Eloise hides her blush as she turns back to her armchair and climbs over his bag. She slips into her leather biker boots, sitting down to zip them up before crossing her legs.

Harry takes a seat across from her and holds eye contact as he tousles his long curls back into place. He nods when his mum, next to him, gestures to Eloise's glass as she confers with the waiter.

>

They're pulled from their chatting - that they're on the same flight home, about the entirely different vibe of airports late at night, her busy schedule, their quick trip signing the documents for Harry's new TriBeCa condo, how their delayed outbound flight meant he missed Adele's party - when the VIP concierge interrupts them to tell them their flight is now almost done boarding, so she can escort them to the gate.

Harry gentlemanly helps Eloise into her coat before lifting his and his mum's bags. Anne steps up to chat to the employee guiding the way, as Harry hangs back, head bent close to Eloise as she finishes regaling him with Adele and Rosie's antics from the afterparty.

>

They're down the tunnel and stepping left into the first class cabin before they know it. The Captain finishes his announcement as they're shown to their seats. Anne and Harry by the window; Eloise a few rows ahead in the central aisle.

She bids him goodbye with a smile over her shoulder as they quickly settle themselves in the otherwise hushed cabin. Her attention is soon diverted to the older man alongside her, introducing himself in a brash Brooklyn accent, talking a mile a minute as he looks her up and down.

Whilst the stewards offer them drinks and finish their pre-flight checks, Harry can't help but watch as Eloise hops back out of her seat, nodding and feigning interest to the chatty man he can hear alongside her. He snatches a glimpse of her toned stomach as she gracefully reaches up on tip toes for her tote bag from the overhead locker. She catches his eye and sends a cheeky wink his way as she pulls out her Bose noise cancelling headphones. He chuckles and shakes his head, looking back down to his book.

>

When the lights dim after the meal, which he notes she misses, already asleep, the noise from the snoring businessman across the aisle from him only intensifies. He surreptitiously asks a steward to move; the only free seat, diagonally across from Eloise.

>

>

8th January 2015

Later, walking back to his new seat from the toilets, he chuckles at seeing her jerk awake to the Captain's nasally greeting over the tannoy. He smirks as he catches her stealthily sneak a glance back to his old seat and frown as she sees it empty. Her eyes meet his as he advances down the aisle, widening in alarm at being caught looking.

"Well, good morning, sleeping beauty", he rasps in a deep, gravelly whisper as he ducks past her, ruffing her tousled blonde hair, before sliding cooly back into his new seat.

He confidently looks back as she pulls a silly grimacing face in his direction, the faint colour high on her cheeks the only giveaway.

'Way to play it cool', she chastises herself, eyeing the overly attentive stewardess fawning over Harry. 'Oh, hello again chatty neighbour' she groans internally as she checks her watch. Thirty minutes till landing. She can handle that.

>

The three of them are first off the plane, escorted by another VIP host. This one painfully British in her reserve.

They banter back and forth about her bad luck getting a talkative seat mate every time, and how she'd have taken his snoring businessman any day; Anne blissfully unaware, having slept the whole way home.

Ushered straight through the private passport control lane, Harry loiters as they part ways at the baggage carousels. They only had carry-on bags but Eloise needs to wait for her suitcase.

He checks his messages as he asks, "Where are you headed? Do you have a car sorted? We can wait".

"All good, thanks. I'm heading straight into town", as she casts a look around the baggage hall. "And that's sweet of you, but there's no need. It's pretty busy in here...". Now approaching mid-morning, she isn't yet a household name, but he'd no doubt have fans flocking in no time.

"She's got a point love. Unwise to linger", Anne says to Harry as she pulls Eloise into a hug, throwing a cheeky "And shouldn't you play it cooler than that?" to him over her shoulder.

Eloise giggles and looks into Anne's disarmingly familiar face as she bids her goodbye. "So wonderful to meet you! Safe journey home".

"Hope to see you again soon, sweet girl".

Harry then pulls her into his usual tight hug with a lingering kiss on her cheek.

How can he look so good and smell so fresh after a seven hour red-eye flight? She dreads to think what she looks like; hair no doubt in total disarray from her headphones and eye mask.

"Lovely surprise, you. Thanks for the company", she smiles warmly, rubbing his back as she finally pulls away.

"Ben's back from LA in a few weeks, right? See you then, maybe?".

"Maybe", she smiles coyly.

"Count on it!", he flirts back.

"I will", she offers simply, in farewell.

>

From the hustle of the Big Apple, to the bustle of London town, after yet more meetings, Eloise finally makes it back to her flat early that evening.

After fumbling for her keys and lugging her suitcase up the stairs, with one look at her beloved king sized bed, she wonders just what she was thinking earlier when she made plans for tonight.

Checking the clock on the wall, she's relieved to see there's enough time for a soak in the bath before she needs to head out. Bubbles in, tunes on, candles lit. Bliss.

>

Less than an hour later, she's slipping through the door and flashing her card to the receptionist. An exclusive private little studio tucked down a cobbled lane in Hampstead; it's warm and welcoming as she heads inside. 

Late night yoga sessions are as equally appealing as late night flights: even quieter, calmer and more relaxed.

But she's immediately taken aback; by the wall of humid air and Maya's tight embrace. She's been attending her classes for a few years now - whenever she's in town and her schedule allows. Compact, exotic and gregarious, Maya is the relative opposite to her own leggy, lithe, calm self.

Stripping off her long puffer coat down to her leggings and matching crop top, their quick catch-up is interrupted by the noisy arrival of another woman. An archetypal Hampstead Lady: older, aggressively groomed, with an air of entitlement about her.

As Maya introduces herself, Eloise unfurls her mat and stretches out her muscles; aching somewhat from the flight and long car journeys of the day.

As she spots Hampstead Lady cast her a familiarly competitive eye, Eloise folds down into Child's Pose. She's focusing her attention on her breathing, when Maya, adopting her serene yogic teaching voice, asks them to find hands and knees for some Cat Cow. But she's interrupted as the door opens and brings with it a refreshingly cooler blast of air, and, to Eloise's surprise and delight, a familiar face revealed once he's done pulling off his hoodie.

"Shit, sorry, I'm late...", he says with his head down, hastily unrolling a mat.

Hampstead Lady tuts, whether in disapproval of his time keeping or his language.

Harry suppresses a smirk and, eyebrows raised, catches Maya and then Eloise's eye before he does a double take. "You, again? No way!".

"I mean, what are the chances?!".

"If we're quite ready...?", Hampstead Lady snoots.

>

In the moody candlelit studio, they catch each other sneaking glances.

To be fair, some of his were genuinely trying to check some of Maya's more extreme poses on Eloise's more readily comparable frame. Other times, he'd admit, were simply being unable to take his eyes off her.

Her face - glowing, serene, happy; her body - graceful, supple, unbelievably sexy; her form - utterly unsurprised to learn that she appears as accomplished at yoga as everything else.

She is taken aback by him, once again. Remarkably adept, strong, surprisingly flexible. She struggles to maintain her focus as he moves fluidly - shorts and baggy tank top riding up and down through the poses, offering tantalising glimpses of taut, lean muscles and artful scribbles.

Unsure if the temperature is continuing to rise, or if that's just her increasingly inappropriate thoughts, she realises just how enigmatic Harry is. As charismatic as he is wildly talented. As kind as he is funny. As humble as he is caring. As his eyes - a rich mossy green tonight - lock on to hers, she realises she never stood a chance; resistance would be futile.

Distracted, she sighs in relief as they come to the last of their salutations and finish their flow. Maya instructs them to recline on to their backs and blows out almost all the candles.

As she begins guiding them through Savasana, Eloise feels almost disorientated. In the flickering near darkness, Harry feels even closer to her than before. She can't focus on anything other than his deep breathing.

She can't resist rolling her head to the side, towards him, and feels a thrill at seeing that he's already looking at her. Cue matching bashful smiles and dopey grins.

Soon enough, they've breathed and stretched and Namaste'd, and Maya is opening the door to let some light and cooler air flood into the hot studio.

"Great work guys. The new schedule has just been posted; check your emails", she bids goodbye. With Hampstead Lady scurrying out hot on her heels, it leaves the two of them, slowly gathering their belongings.

"Well, umm, that was...", he reties his hair after pulling on his hoodie.

"Wildly distracting?", she offers with a comical grimace.

"I was going for 'interesting', but yeah, definitely...", frowning slightly as her skin is gradually hidden as she zips her coat back up.

Mats rolled, she blows out the final candles as he holds open the studio door for her. She cuts her eyes to him with a shy "Thanks" as she squeezes past.

>

She stops abruptly at the threshold of the front door. He's distracted still and walks straight into her back, an arm quickly wrapping around her waist on instinct as she teeters on the step.

The damp cold takes her breath away. It has started snowing during the class. Big, fat, wet snowflakes blow in at them under the awning. Still in his embrace, she turns to him in surprise; a childlike look of wonder on her striking features.

She pulls up the hood of her coat and takes a step down to the pavement, twirling around in a circle with arms outstretched.

He casts a look down the empty street and asks, "Where's your car?".

"At home. I walked here," she turns to him with a shrug as he pulls up his own hood and palms his car key.

"Oh, absolutely not! Hop in," he gestures to the sleek black Audi behind her.

"I'm in the opposite direction from you. And besides, I love the snow! I'll be home in less than ten minutes".

"I can't let you walk, El. It's late and dark and freezing." He opens the passenger door and gestures to the inviting leather interior.

"Harry, really-".

"Humour me?", he cuts her off, reaching out to squeeze her arm. "Please", he tugs her forward and she trips into him.

Fingers splayed, she can feel his toned chest through his hoodie. She draws her fingertips lightly down his abs and around to squeeze his trim waist, looking up at him through her lashes. "Okay," she holds his emerald gaze, smiling up at him, before ducking under his arm and into the seat.

He blows out a breath he didn't realise he was holding as he closes her door, then jogs around the bonnet, sheepishly plucking a parking ticket from the windscreen.

>

As the engine roars to life and the headlights pick out the snow falling around them, he chuckles as she bats at her big coat puffed up all around her. He leans across to turn on her heated seat then pulls back her hood. 

Their eyes lock once again and his hand lingers - grazing her cheekbone reverently - before he catches himself and pulls back, awkwardly clearing his throat.

As they wait for the windscreen to clear, he bites the bullet and lolls his head towards her. "You know... This would be so much easier if you'd stop resisting my Prince Charming efforts", he says with an earnest grin.

Her nose wrinkles in fondness as she squeezes his hand resting on the gearstick, "Well then... Belsize Avenue, please, Prince Harry".

>

In a matter of minutes, he's pulling into the driveway and parking closely behind her car.   
As the ticking of the idling engine dies down, they're blanketed in soft quiet again as the snow continues falling around them.

He breaks the silence before it can become awkward. "Good taste", he grins, gesturing to her sleek black Porsche Macan with an appreciative glance.

With her chin coquettishly perched in the hand resting on the car's centre console, she eyes him intently, "Well... You would say that, wouldn't you?".

He snaps his head back to hers to gauge whether she was referring to more than just German engineering. God, he hopes so.

Her arched eyebrow and cheeky expression fill him with hope and the confidence to twist in his seat and lean his forehead towards hers, chuckling with a whispered, "You... Are quite something".

They hold eye contact and smile knowingly. She rewards his bold move with one of her own. "So, would Prince Charming think it ungentlemanly to come up for a drink?".

He answers with a broad dimpled grin, unbuckling his seatbelt with a flourish.

>

He's hot on her heels as she fishes the keys from her pocket, and has to side step around her as she turns to lock the main door behind them.

She leads him up the wide marble foyer staircase to the front door of her flat, then shrugs off her coat in the small entry way before running a hand lightly down his arm to gesture for him to follow her up the stairs.

A blush colours his cheeks as he catches her eye in the mirror on the landing half way up. With her knowing smirk, she definitely caught him checking out her bum in her tight leggings.

She dims the lights and powers up the Sonos; jumping as Biggie spits out the second verse of Hypnotize at high volume. Chuckling as Harry barks a laugh and starts rapping along, she then reaches for her phone to dial down the volume and switch playlists with a flushed grin.

Stepping towards the kitchen at the back of her open plan living room, she throws a "Make yourself at home", over her shoulder.

Stepping in a circle, he takes in the details of her flat. Floor to ceiling shelves along one wall, groaning with books and picture frames. The candle-adorned marble coffee table and a Scandi rocking chair in the corner. Wide parquet flooring in a light ash blonde. Trailing his fingers across the back of the oversized ink blue Chesterfield sofa, he eyes the brightly coloured textured acrylic canvas dominating the far wall. He lets out a low whistle, "This is nice, El. Wow! Ben was being modest when he said you'd had some success modelling...".

>

Crouching down out of sight, rummaging through a cupboard, she calls out, "I've got some red somewhere... Or would you just prefer a tea?".

Popping back up when he doesn't answer, she turns, finding him transfixed at the view from the massive bay window. The lights from across the Mews below, and the floodlit Church steeple and park behind it, pick up the falling snow and that particular steely purplish haze.

"Harry?", she says pressing a gentle hand between his shoulder blades as she reaches him.

He jumps at her touch and does a double take before pulling her into his side. "So beautiful", he says wistfully. She squeezes his side with affection and prompts him about the drink.

>

When she returns with two glasses of red wine, he's making himself comfy on the cushion-strewn window seat, trailing a finger with interest over the side table laden with her laptop, notebooks, reference books and Post-Its.

She nudges his shoulder with her hip and holds out a glass for him. Their fingers brush as he takes the stem and looks up at her with a soft smile. "This has to be a pretty magical spot for reading and writing?".

"My favourite", she says, reaching over him for the blanket in the corner, "Now budge up". She climbs gracefully alongside him, careful not to spill a drop as she drapes the blanket over their legs.

She leans gently into him when he lifts an arm around her shoulder. They clink glasses, smirking at his "Cheers!" and her answering Swedish "Skål!", making eyes at each other over the rims of their wine glasses.

>

She's first to break. The purple hued light through the window dancing mesmerisingly in his crystalline green eyes. The last of his cologne mingling with his spicy deodorant. The curl of his hair tickling her cheek. The press of his thigh against hers under the blanket. The weight of his arm over her shoulder. The featherlight trail of his fingers dancing up and down her arm, goosebumps emerging in their wake. It's all too much.

She breaks his gaze and looks away to the falling snow, letting out an involuntary shudder.

"Cold?", he mistakenly queries, pulling her closer still into his side.

After a fortifying sip, she braves those eyes again. "No, no. I'm perfect. This... It's perfect". A lingering look, intense green locking on to rich blue.

He breaks this time, but not before she catches the timid look that crosses his stunning features. He takes a deep breath in. She holds hers in anticipation. He pauses. Tries again.

His breath catches when she reaches her left hand up to grasp his fingers hanging over her shoulder. She brushes his broad palm, twining their long fingers together.

Hearing his breathing deepen and slow, she feels brave and pulls his hand to her lips, to press a delicate kiss. Then another.

He tenses then sighs out a ragged breath, angling his body away and pulling his hand from hers. She reflexively leans the other way, panic setting in at his dismissal.

But he gently angles her chin up again and whispers lowly, "I need to k-... Can I kiss you?", nearing closer.

She can only nod as she fixates on his warm, wine tinged breath fanning her lips, as his pink tongue darts out to wet his eager lips.

>

Then she notices everything and nothing, all at once. The shift of his hips on the window seat as he angles his body to hers. The hand slipping to cup the nape of her neck, pulling her closer. The other splayed across her jaw. The delicate flutter of his eyelashes on her cheek. The gentle slide of his nose down hers as he tilts his head. The barest first press of his lips to hers. The shaky intake of breath as he pulls hesitantly back. The dimples blooming in his cheeks as he pierces her with those emerald eyes, checking she's still with him.

The soft grunt as he surges back with more conviction, more pressure, more heat. The sexy groan as her tongue dances gently along his lower lip. The silken slide of his tongue against hers. The push of his fingers into her scalp, guiding her closer still. The smack of his lips against hers as they pull apart, foreheads resting together as they pant, breathlessly.

"Umm...".

"Wha-".

"Wow".

"Yeah".

>

When he leans over her to set the wine glasses aside, she surreptitiously shuffles further down. Pulling him back by the shoulder, half over her, she delights in the weight of him, grounding her.

Braced at the edge of the bench, she props a knee up to bracket his hips against hers. Her fingers dig into the meat of his back, as his glide from her hip, up her waist, over her ribs, to brush the side of her breast through her sports bra.

With her gasp breaking their kiss, he focuses his attention lower, pillowing his lips down the column of her long neck, laving at the dip between her collarbones.

With an involuntary roll of her hips to press into his, "H-, Harry, I...".

Crowding her into the cushioned bench, he groans into her neck, "Oh, my God".

He pulls back, propping himself up on an elbow as his lips press butterfly kisses following the trail of his fingers, over her collarbone, to her jaw and cheekbone, to find her lips again. "I could so get carried away...", he murmurs between pecks.

Hearing her answering groan, after a final long kiss, he pulls her back up but keeps his hand in hers, anchoring them both.

"H, as much as I really, really want this...", she says, stroking his sharp jaw.

"...Our timing sucks?", he nods dejectedly, running a hand through his errant long curls.

"Your tour starts in two weeks...", she chuckles at his melodramatic groan. "On the other side of the world!".

"...And you have a dissertation and finals to focus on", he bops a finger on the end of her nose.

She bites her lip with a grimace, "I do. Damnit".

"But El," he says earnestly, "What this is between us, this... This chemistry... It's, well, it's hot. So fucking hot. That's not going anywhere... We'll have our time".

"Promise?".

"I do. Absolutely".

>

She leans in for another kiss, then drops to his neck before stretching over to whisper sultrily in his ear. "So I can't corrupt Prince Charming tonight then? Not properly?", running a hand down his torso, wavering at his lower abs.

He throws his head back with an exasperated half laugh, half moan. "Eloise! I'm trying so hard to be noble here". He laces their fingers together and presses a chaste kiss to her knuckles. "We'll make it worth the wait, believe me".

With a strangled cry of frustration, he jumps up, over her, hastily pulling his hoodie down over his shorts.

He leans quickly back down, bracketing her between his arms. "I cannot believe I'm saying this, and I'll regret it the moment I step outside, but I need to go... My resolve is running really, really, dangerously low". He looks her straight in the eyes, explaining carefully, "This, us, won't just be a one time thing, and once we go there I know I won't be able to stop".

He pulls her up and into him, walking backwards all the way to the stairs as he kisses her goodbye; for now.

Series continues with ‘3 | You & I'.


End file.
